


Forced To Land

by PFDiva



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast), The Mechanisms (Band)
Genre: M/M, Trans Male Character, basira is very beholding, but i failed, elias gets murdered, i meant for martin to be more of a presence in this, melanie is very slaughter, so does jonny (but he gets better), tim and martin are very gay (so is jonny), trans tim because fight me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:35:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22930339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PFDiva/pseuds/PFDiva
Summary: Elias tries to replace his archivist with one from another dimension.  Things don't quite work out the way he meant them to.
Relationships: Jonny D'Ville/Tim Stoker
Comments: 24
Kudos: 318
Collections: Jonny D'ville pretends he's Jarchivist





	Forced To Land

**Author's Note:**

> In spirit, I stole this title from Alice on Tales 2, but whatever. The discord gives me the best bad ideas, and this one was Elias summoning Jon's alternate reality self and getting Jonny D'Ville. The murders aren't particularly gory, but TW for gun violence and knife violence, if those bother you.

The man who stood in the middle of Elias' office certainly _looked_ like Jon Sims. If you took off the makeup, changed the clothing and posture, and did something about the _hair._ But all of that together added up to a person who was _emphatically_ not what Elias needed, especially as Elias could already feel the Slaughter's touch on him, and see the way he was smugly eyeing Elias up and down.

"Well," said the man who was not Jon Sims, breaking the silence, "Who would _you_ be, handsome?"

"I am Elias Bouchard," said Elias, ignoring the flirtation, "And I'm afraid there's been something of a mistake."

"I'll say!" cheered the man with a great wide grin. Jonny D'Ville, Elias suddenly knew. Hm. "Never been summoned before," continued Jonny, sprawling onto Elias's desk to lean in close, "But if you need a succubus, I'm your man." It was both fascinating and bizarre that some facet of linguistic drift meant that Jonny was equating the word "succubus" with the word for "whore."

"Thank you, no," replied Elias. "In fact, I will be sending you home rather immediately."

"No, I don't think I want to go yet," said Jonny, popping up.

Elias didn't quite understand the next words to come out of his mouth, but he knew they had emotional weight with this Jonny D'Ville, and he needed the man to _stay still_ for a few moments, so Elias could convince him he wanted to go back.

He realized his mistake in the split-second before gunshots separated his body from his head.

-

Basira came hurtling up the stairs to see Jon walking out of Elias's office. It wasn't the weirdest thing that had happened this week, but it was definitely high on the list, because she knew good and well that Jonathan Sims was still in a coma in the hospital. This man looked like if Jon was in a band, and he was holding a gun-shaped object like he knew what he was doing with it.

"Jon?" she ventured. It couldn't be a Stranger like Sasha, because this was recognizably Jon. She could remember the Jon still in the hospital. He looked different.

This stranger looked up, and his face immediately lit up, "Ashes! Nice to see an unfriendly face!"

"No," Basira said, as Not-Jon came her way with an arm extended, perhaps to hug her, perhaps to grab her, she had no clue. She had no idea what he was planning, but he had a gun, may have shot Elias (not _necessarily_ a bad thing) and she didn't know what she was dealing with. Thus it was a matter of instinct to grab his arm, pivot, and slam him onto his back as hard as she could.

He laughed, "That's a new one!"

"I'm not Ashes," Basira firmly informed him, kicking his weapon away before grabbing it. It...wasn't a gun, actually? Like, it was the right sort of shape, but it looked more like a scifi alien blaster, except with more gears. Then again, Not-Jon's whole outfit could be summed up as 'except with more gears,' so thematically? It fit.

"You look like Ashes," objected Not-Jon.

"You look like a man in a coma," Basira replied, taking her best guess on aiming the weapon.

He hummed thoughtfully, "Never been in a coma. Don't know if I _can_ be…!"

-

Melanie was next up the stairs, and when she saw Jon lying on the floor, she couldn't help but sneer.

"Nice costume, Sims."

Jon looked up at Basira without getting up, "Who's Sims?"

"The man in the coma," said Basira, at the same time Melanie decided this had to be another stranger like Sasha. She'd kill him and get him out of everyone's hair. She was the one responsible for murder, more and more these days.

She dropped her full weight onto Not-Jon, driving her knee into his gut and making the air whoosh out of him. She grabbed his...absurd hair and sliced his throat cleanly from ear to ear. There was blood, but she was used to blood, and death rattles, she was used to those, too.

She got up for a look at the weapon Basira had been pointing at him. Neither of them could really tell what it was. It looked like a gun.

"I was never in the armed division," Basira added, her eyes flicking over Melanie's shoulder at motion Melanie assumed was Martin finally catching up. She was disabused of the notion by the way Basira's face went ashen, just as a hand snatched the gun from between them.

Turning to look, Melanie saw Not-Jon checking over his weapon with practiced hands, the front of his shirt awash with blood. Then he started talking. Complaining about their rudeness and _teaching them how his weapon worked!_ Melanie...couldn't even be furious enough to try stabbing him. This was officially the weirdest thing that had happened to her. And she'd been shot by a ghost!

-

Martin finally made the top of the stairs and found Melanie and Basira staring in mute horror at "Jon?!"

The man turned and grinned widely at the sight of Martin, leering, "You know, I still haven't figured out why everyone keeps saying that. The name's Jonny D'Ville." He started towards Martin at the same time Melanie said "Martin, get back!"

Martin got back, making "Jonny" pout.

"I'm not gonna _hurt_ him! You killed me and I didn't even shoot you a little. He's just _pretty._ "

Martin choked on air as Jonny sauntered his way. The front of his clothing was covered in blood. It still looked wet! Martin wasn't thinking about the fact that he'd been described in a lot of ways, but pretty usually never made the list.

"Do you think I'm pretty too, Martin?" asked Jonny, from close enough for Martin to smell the blood. But now Martin knew for sure it wasn't Jon. If it was, he'd have had to answer, and it would have been smooth, calm, and direct.

Instead, Martin babbled something about making tea and fled down the stairs, his face so hot, he could have fried an egg on it.

-

Tim watched Martin come running down the stairs and went back to doing nothing useful on his computer. There had been gunshots upstairs, so everyone except Tim had gone for a look. If someone had died, Martin would have said. And even if he wouldn't have, it wasn't like Tim cared. He hadn't cared about anything in months. He almost missed it.

After some minutes, Melanie and Basira came down with a shirtless man who could have been Jon Sims at a renaissance festival. Which was ridiculous, because Jon was definitely still in a coma, sleeping the world away.

Melanie looked shaken, but Basira was curious and interested, listening to the explanation of the man's weird toy gun.

Martin chose then to come back in, carrying a tray of tea. He squeaked at the sight of the stranger, who looked up and, astonishingly, _leered_ at Martin. Martin was good-looking, sure, but Jon sure as hell never leered at him. It'd have saved a lot of people a lot of headache if he had.

"Who _are_ you?" demanded Tim, finally confused enough to speak up. The stranger looked away from Martin, then paused, giving Tim a slow, lingering sort of look. It had been a long time since Tim had cared about anybody looking at him that way, and he felt his skin prickle.

Then the man's voice dropped an octave, like a mad preacher proclaiming hellfire to sweating outlaws, and he started to sing.

_Hey there son_

_I got a story to tell_

_The story goes quick_

_You better listen well_

_You asked who I am_

_Let's have a nice hot meal_

_I'll tell you my dear_

_About Jonny D'Ville._

He sang about being a mercenary and a pirate and a soldier. He sang about being bored and immortal and traveling the stars. He sang about friends he'd killed and enemies he'd loved, and by the time he was done, he was close enough to sing the air out of Tim's lungs.

And it felt like something. Not just something, but electric and new, his entire being alive with it. It felt like being a _person_ again.

When Mr. Jonny D'Ville stopped singing, Tim sat back with a shaky exhale. He could see Basira and Melanie avoiding each other's gazes behind him, could see Martin slowly folding up into a pile of gay angst.

He gave the man a smirk, "Jonny D'Ville, you said?"

"That I did."

"Lemme show you around."

"In your own time."

And if Tim didn't know better, he'd have sworn Jonny already knew Tim was wet and hot for whatever Jonny D'Ville would give him when they were alone. Well. It wasn't hard to guess, he supposed.

**Author's Note:**

> For the song, imagine Galahad's voice in Hellfire, but in the cadence of Mick in Lucky Seven and you'll have the right impression of what it sounds like in my head.


End file.
